


The Geometry of Battle

by carmenta



Category: Lions of Al-Rassan - Kay
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A winter campaign will be an excellent trial for all of us."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Geometry of Battle

_A winter campaign will be an excellent trial for all of us._

Shivering, Jehane pulled her cloak more tightly around herself and decided to never again listen to any of Rodrigo Belmonte's assessments of such matters. Nobody went to war in winter – it was well-known that the times for such action were spring and summer, and that armies went home in fall. It had been like that since before the fall of the Sarantine Empire, and it would not change just because one Jaddite captain decided that it would be _good for them_.

Had she taken the time to think, she would have known what she was getting herself into. But Rodrigo had played on her pride and her stubbornness, and before she'd been able to consider all the ramifications of accepting the position as his company's doctor, Ammar had added his support to the idea. Somehow it had seemed logical to accept the offer then, if only to put some physical distance between herself and Masur for a little while.

From the back of a restive horse in the middle of a damp forest, reality was a lot less glamorous. She should have stayed, Jehane thought as she watched her breath fog as she exhaled. Then she would be in Ragosa now, warm in her bed and not out here in the chill of a winter night. She would have succeeded in keeping Masur at bay, she knew that. As he did, too, she suspected, and it probably gave him an odd feeling of satisfaction to see her struggles. He had asked her to stay, citing the dangers of battle and of winter travelling. She had refused, countering with her wish to gain experience and Rodrigo's explicit request that she accompany him.

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea.

She could not say much yet on the dangers of travelling. They had spent the last three days camped in a small valley while Rodrigo's scouts searched for the group of bandits they were supposed to eliminate. A first evaluation, as they all knew – Badir and Masur were too cautious to use untested tools, even those as famous as Ammar ibn Khairan, or Rodrigo Belmonte and his company. Some bandits would do to prove that their reputations were still well deserved, and it would also rid the countryside of a threat.

Jehane hadn't had any objections to the plan. She knew the damage bandit groups could do; in Fezana she had sometimes treated villagers who had survived assaults, and she had no illusions over the need to deal with such men. Poets might sometimes glorify them, but their works never spoke of the suffering these men caused.

Her horse shifted under her, restlessly tossing its head. One of the other horses snorted, and she heard the sound of leather on thick winter fur as its rider patted the arched neck. Rodrigo had left her and Velaz with two guards, and Jehane could tell that the riders were as anxious as the horses. They could smell the battle, she thought.

They certainly couldn't have seen it, even if they had been closer and not in the middle of a forest. With morning drawing close, mist had descended, dense enough to obscure anything but the closest surroundings from view. It made the night twice as uncomfortable; the damp crept everywhere, and Jehane had noticed with dismay that there were dark spots appearing on her blue coat where the fabric had soaked up moisture from the air. She would have to treat fevers after this campaign, at the very least.

She had assumed that the mist would delay the attack. Ammar had been pleased, however, claiming that it gave them a tactical advantage. Lain Nunez had disagreed and scowled at the thought of a lack of sight as advantageous for cavalry. Rodrigo had listened to them both, shrugged, and decided that they would not wait with the attack since there was no way to be sure that the weather would change.

And so the company had ridden off in the middle of the night to be ready for an attack at the earliest light of dawn. Jehane had been left safely out of range of the immediate fighting, but still close enough that there would not be any dangerous delays.

She'd strained to hear the sounds of battle at first, until one of her guards – Luis, a young outrider – had made a comment about how they were upwind of the bandit camp and how voices wouldn't carry that far. It had made her feel foolish for a moment, then angry with herself that she'd expected to know these things. She was a doctor, not a soldier. What concerned her were other matters. And yet she reminded herself to listen more closely the next time she heard the men talk about weather and its influences. She was this company's doctor now, so perhaps she should be aware of it after all.

The wind was picking up a little, making the dry leaves on the trees rustle as it shook the branches. Jehane drew her coat more tightly around herself, and once more wondered about the circumstances that had caused her to be here, on the verge of a battle in a winter night.

"It won't be long now," Luis remarked eventually.

She looked at him and nodded, then turned to Velaz. But there was nothing to say; he had her instruments ready inside their bags, and he knew better than she did what to expect of the next hour. He caught her eye and shot her a smile, which she returned, wondering what her father would think if he could see her now.

Dawn, hazy through the mist. Jehane waited as the world grew brighter again around her and wished that the sun would be strong enough today to lend some warmth.

Sounds of a galloping horse, then, and she couldn't help flinching when her guards drew their swords. But before she had time to think about the possible implications of that sound, they sheathed their weapons again as Martin called out to them.

"It's over," he shouted from the distance, then turned his horse around again. Luis and the other soldier followed him, not waiting to see whether she and Velaz did as well. Jehane's horse began to move even before she could gather up the reins, eager to keep up with its companions.

It wasn't a long ride, and she heard voices long before the mist lightened enough to let her see. Not a battlefield by any means; trampled ground, the winter grass pale on the brown earth. A broken spear was the first sign of the fight she spotted; then a helmet she recognized as belonging to one of Rodrigo's soldiers. A horse moved in front of them, riderless and shying at every sound.

The first body didn't come as a surprise, and Jehane didn't even stop her horse when she saw it. There was no doubt that any help she could render would come too late; her physician's heart tightened a little when she noted her own relief that this man had not been one of those in whose company she had left Ragosa. She hadn't permitted herself to worry over the fate of the soldiers; they knew what their life might held in store, and they had accepted this, just as she had when she had agreed to Rodrigo's offer. But the oath of Galinus was just as valid on a battlefield, where it might be said that some lives were more precious than others.

Frowning at herself, she sat straighter and looked ahead, where she could see riders gathering. The mist had lightened a little and showed her that they were in a clearing, tents to one side, fires banked before them. Wood had been kicked into the embers of one fire and it burned more brightly now, the flames hazy in the morning air.

"Jehane!"

She turned at the sound of her name, seeing Ammar wave at her from the distance. Unwounded, she decided after a swift assessment, though he looked more ruffled than she had seen him before. A dark smudge of dirt on his cheek, his garments stained. Red, she saw, and didn't allow herself to consider what this meant. He had killed before. He would kill after this. And these men would have done even more harm if they hadn't interceded.

She wondered if all battle was so coldly calculating. She'd felt the same way in Orvilla, half a year ago, when she'd witnessed such a scene for the first time.

Spurring her horse, she rode towards him at a canter, ignoring the sights around her. There weren't many bodies – the bandits had scattered into smaller groups during the winter – and most of the wounded she could see were moving.

"Am I to clean up the mess you have made?" she asked when she was close enough to be heard without having to shout.

Ammar flashed her a smile. "If you would be so kind," he said. "But you will see that we have been considerate of you. There is not much for you to do."

Jehane glared at him for the double meaning of his words. Noticing, Ammar held up his hands. "Not like that. Badir asked for prisoners."

"Then they will have to be treated so you can present him with what he wants," she said firmly. "Where?"

"Back there, with our own wounded. We gathered them at the cookfires. They are more comfortable than we are, at the moment." He shivered, plainly enough for her to frown at him for being dramatic. "It is too cold for a winter campaign. I shall do damage to my fingers if I attempt to write."

"I'm sure you can find someone to dictate your poetry to," she said, turning her horse. She wasn't certain why she felt angry with him. He was unharmed, so she should be glad.

"Jehane."

She halted.

"This won't be the last time," he said.

"I know," she answered, not turning to face him. Her horse shook its head, tugging at the reins.

When Ammar didn't say anything else, she rode to the fires. Rodrigo's riders nodded at her on the way, their initial curiosity at having a female physician replaced by now with the perfunctory awareness that she belonged to the company and that she was here for their own good. She saw Alvar in the distance, and was relieved to know that he was well.

There weren't too many wounded. Ten or fifteen, a cursory glance told her. Less than she had expected, more than she had wished for. Half of them were being guarded; the bandits, set aside not only by this treatment but also by their appearance. Dirty, unshaven, their clothes old, their drawn faces marked by winter.

Jehane quenched down feelings of sympathy and reminded herself that these men had plagued the surrounding villages. They had harmed, they had killed. They did not deserve her pity or commiseration. But they deserved her skills, just like the riders on the other side of the fire.

Focusing on the tasks at hand, Jehane set to work. She bandaged stabs, stitched slashes, set broken bones. Nothing truly complicated – battle wounds rarely were. And yet one man died before she could still the bleeding from his shoulder, where a sword had bitten deep enough to tear into arteries and cause too much damage for her to repair.

War, she reflected bitterly. Then she moved on to her next patient and pushed those thoughts aside. Anger had no place in a physician's mind, her father had told her more than once.

She worked swiftly, occasionally making quiet requests for assistance to Velaz. If she didn't think of her surroundings, she could pretend that she was still in Fezana. After a festivity, perhaps, when things sometimes got out of hand. She had treated similar injuries on the day after, along with selling more of her headache remedy than she normally would in a week. Here it wasn't needed; she hadn't even packed much of it.

After she tied the last bandage into place on a slashed arm, Jehane straightened up, stretched her aching back, and was somewhat surprised to see that the sun had broken through and the mist was fading. Around her, Rodrigo's riders were moving with their usual efficiency, dismantling the bandit camp and going through their possessions. She watched for a little while as they sorted through the horses, deciding which to keep and which to sell on. Then she spotted one rider with a bleeding shoulder and called out, ordering him to come to her. He did, his expression amused while his comrades grinned at her.

She learned then that soldiers had a different idea than she did when it came to the seriousness of injuries. What she thought was in need of treatment was a scratch to them, to be cleaned with some water and wrapped in a spare shirt. Never mind that they courted infection that way, or that sometimes bravery made them dismiss the pain. Jehane caught herself getting angry again at the sheer stupidity.

"Are you going to stay our company doctor?" Ammar asked behind her as she finished stitching up the wound. The soldier looked suddenly uncomfortable, no doubt less from the pain than from being scrutinized by Ammar ibn Khairan.

"That depends on how foolish this company is going to be," she returned, wiping her hands on a rag. She'd need to find fresh water again to properly clean them. Ammar would know where; he looked considerably cleaner now than he had before.

Ammar laughed. "Very foolish, Jehane. But all soldiers are. If they were scared of injury, then they would not be here."

She shook her head, then mustered him. "You aren't hiding anything yourself, are you?" she asked.

Again he laughed. "I would tell you. I am not so fond of pain that I would stay silent. And other than these men, I have been acquainted to your father long enough to have endured my share of lectures on how even small wounds need treatment."

The reminder of her father made her look around and assess her work. Sufficient, she judged. One man lost, another two saved who would not have lived to see the next morning without her. It balanced. In the end, it all balanced.

"Good," she told him briskly. "See to it that the rest understands it as well."

"Of course. In fact, I am here to ask whether you have a moment. Your services are required."

She looked up at him. "In what way?" she asked cautiously.

He held up his hands in a warding gesture. "A difference of opinions, I fear. I was hoping you would be willing to assist in settling it."

For a moment she was tempted to tell him that she had more important matters to deal with. But while he was still smiling, it didn't quite reach his eyes. She wordlessly gathered up her instruments and followed him.

The commotion around them was quieting down by now. That it didn't take long to completely dismantle a winter camp was a bit of a surprise to her – she'd thought that the bandits would have been better prepared. Badir and Mazur would soon have to find better things to do for their mercenaries if they wished to get their money's worth. Twenty of Ragosa's garrison soldiers could have handled this raid just as well as half of Rodrigo's riders. Not to mention that there had been no need to send the two most dangerous men in the peninsula to deal with a handful of bandits.

One of those men was accompanying her now, making small talk as they crossed the camp. She recognized it for what it was – an attempt to distract her – and came close to telling him that she did not need sheltering from the realities of war. She was a doctor, she knew what harm swords and spears could do. And after Orvilla, nothing held the power to surprise her anymore.

They found Rodrigo close to the clearing's edge, deep in discussion with Lain Nunez. Occasionally one of the men would stop by, ask something, get a reply, and be on his way again.

"… three days. If the weather holds, that is," Jehane heard him say as they approached.

"Four if we don't push the horses," Nunez answered. "Is there a need to hurry?"

Rodrigo shook his head. He was as scruffy as Ammar had been when she'd first seen him this day. "No, there isn't. But it will assure Badir of our efficiency."

"He knows about that well enough," Nunez muttered.

"We'd better remind him, before he decides to keep us chasing bandits forever." Taking off his leather gloves, Rodrigo flexed his hand. "He needs proof."

Nunez spat, then shook his head. "I'll see to it that the men are ready, then."

"Do that. And find a way to deal with the prisoners. I don't think we have enough spare horses."

Nunez muttered something else under his breath, then turned away. Passing Jehane and Ammar, he gave them a quick nod before heading for the fires. Watching him go, Jehane didn't allow herself to wonder what solution would be found to handle the captive bandits.

"I assume you didn't mean that I am supposed to comment on this particular difference of opinion," Jehane said.

Rodrigo looked up from his hands. "Unless you have a suggestion," he said. "How many wounded?"

"Five of yours, eleven bandits," she said, a little startled at the businesslike manner. But this was a battle, so it was probably to be expected. "Those are the ones who thought that they might need my assistance, at least. For all I know, half your company may slowly be bleeding to death."

She was angrier at this than she'd realized. It wasn't new that someone feared having to admit pain to a physician, when the cure could at times be almost worse for a little while. But it annoyed her nevertheless to know that while she _could_ do something, she wasn't being asked to.

"They'll come if it is serious," Rodrigo assured her, putting his gloves on again. "They're soldiers, Jehane. Not fools."

"See, that is just what I told you," Ammar said. "Don't concern yourself over this."

She treated them both to a brief glare, then shook her head. "I have my doubts," she said tartly. "And as for my suggestion, get your company back to Ragosa before my fever treatments run out."

"It's winter," Rodrigo shrugged. "It's to be expected."

Jehane was about to ask whether he was still confirmed that campaigning right now was a good idea when she saw him curl his right hand into a fist once again. She watched the gesture, then his face, and saw an unmistakeable wince.

"What did you do?" she asked.

Rodrigo blinked at her. His sleeve was stained under the vambrace - hard to spot on dirty brown leather, but it was there.

"I beg your pardon?"

She turned to Ammar. "You knew," she accused and received a little bow of his head in return.

"As I said, a difference of opinions. To be precise, whether this warrants your attention or not."

Biting down a curse on men and their obstinacy, Jehane seized Rodrigo's hand and unbuckled the brace. He let her, either to indulge her or because he knew that when faced with her and Ammar in agreement over something, giving in was the best option.

"You shouldn't have told her," he said to Ammar, ignoring her as she carelessly discarded the piece of armour. "Now she'll just poke and prod."

Jehane prodded his wrist quite deliberately, watching him wince. "She will," she said briskly. "So hold still. Besides, she can hear you."

A chuckle behind her distracted Rodrigo enough to let her go ahead. Nothing serious, she saw that quickly. A glancing blow that would hurt for days, but which didn't require much in terms of treatment. Going through her bag, she fished out another rag and discarded it as too dirty while she listened to the two men.

"You could have saved yourself the trouble and just told her," Ammar was pointing out. "It would have made your life a lot easier."

"It would have inconvenienced her. There are far more serious injuries; she needs to deal with those."

"She has. What good is a company doctor if you don't use her?"

Silence, then. Jehane suspected she didn't want to know why.

"Get me a bucket," she ordered.

Ammar raised an elegantly arched eyebrow at her.

"A bucket," she repeated firmly. "Of water. Or a wet rag. Since he didn't even have the clarity of mind to clean this."

Ammar went more swiftly than she'd expected. Perhaps she ought to use this tone of voice more often, if it made him comply so easily.

"I didn't have time," Rodrigo claimed defensively. "And this doesn't need a doctor. Lain could easily have handled it."

"He doesn't seem to have the time either," Jehane said, shooting him a sweet smile. "Don't say that you regret hiring me already."

Rodrigo gave a long-suffering sigh. "You _must_ have met my wife," he said. "It's the only explanation."

Jehane patted his arm reassuringly. "I am sure the Lady Miranda would have to say something about that."

"She would," Rodrigo said, with great conviction, then winced when she poked him a bit harder than strictly necessary.

"She'd also have something to say about you leaving this untreated," Jehane continued.

"Nothing you haven't said already." Rodrigo shook his head. "I need to introduce you to her."

"Are you certain that is wise?" Ammar asked as he returned, offering a piece of wet cloth to her. "Especially if your wife is at all like Jehane?"

She was tempted to kick him, but that would have been unprofessional while treating a patient. She settled for a glare that made him take a step backwards, but couldn't quite erase the grin on his face.

"Perhaps not," Rodrigo said thoughtfully, "but it would be interesting to witness."

The wound was quickly taken care of, and had Jehane been in a more forgiving mood she'd have agreed that it hadn't necessarily needed so much care. As it was, she decided upon setting an example. With some luck the rest of the company would follow their captain's lead and actually let her do her work.

Later, when by some unspoken agreement at least twenty riders came to her and grudgingly let her treat them, she almost regretted this wish. Apparently word had spread that the company physician was someone who took her work seriously and who would not be easily ignored, and then men had decided to stay on her good side for now. She was still digging through her bags for more antiseptics when Rodrigo gave the order to ride.

That day, she learned how to treat patients from the back of a horse, the first Kindath doctor to do so ever since the Asharite laws had prohibited them from riding, long centuries ago. It made the time pass faster, and she couldn't spare a moment to be concerned about her control over the horse, as she usually was. And yet she was glad when they stopped for the night and she could meet her final patient with firm ground under her feet again.

She wondered what her mother would say if she could see her, in the middle of a mercenary company, the men celebrating a successful raid. This wasn't where a doctor should be, especially a female one. She knew that. But she had her patients here, and after today there would not be nearly as many curious and doubtful looks. She'd overheard some of the riders earlier, and it had eased the misgivings that had crept up on her during the beginning of this campaign.

Her patients. She didn't allow herself to think too closely why her presence was needed here. A physician could agree with war and with fighting – she had no illusions that it had been necessary to deal with the bandits, and that this was the best way. She'd learned at Orvilla that she could stand by and watch a man be killed. She'd learned that there were circumstances when she wouldn't flinch while someone suffered before her.

She would adjust to this, and learn from it.

Maybe a winter campaign would be good for her after all.


End file.
